Shadows Within
by itsravensfault
Summary: Sherlock Holmes isn't totally human. He has a Shadow inside of him. It changed John's life when he moved in with the detective. Warning: Johnlock, and possible major character deaths.
1. Chapter 1

John Watson knew what he was getting into when he moved in with Sherlock Holmes. He was warned when he walked into Saint Bart's. It was just a small movement, a small gesture to reveal what he really was, and only John caught it. He looked over at Mike when it happened but he wasn't reacting; when he turned back to Sherlock he was smiling at him. He gave a few more warnings, nothing as big, or dangerous as the other one, the one meant just for John.

With a small flick of the wrist, John was able to see the mark on his skin, the small black smudge that looked like nothing from afar but was a small man up close, on his wrist. Sherlock had a Shadow. Not a shadow like everyone has, that follows them around, but a Shadow. A living creature inside of him that makes him change into a monster, something friends told each other about at sleep overs, something parent's always said were a myth. Sherlock was different, and it made John excited.

Sherlock seemed to know everything about him as well. He was bombarded with deductions, left and right his life was being unraveled by someone who he just met. It should have scared him off, like the warning, but just like that, it only made him want to get closer, want to see more of what Sherlock could do. John accepted the offer, or more like Sherlock told him he was accepting. He didn't have a say in the matter but he knew there was no turning back.

X

It wasn't long after he officially moved in when John came in contact with Sherlock's Shadow. The aftermath of his Shadow actually. It was late and John was worried for his friend, he left earlier and hadn't come back. With Sherlock it could have meant a number of things, not many of them ending in a good way. He could picture him chasing a criminal down and alley, or lying in a ditch bleeding to death. All the worse possibilities came to mind in the matter of seconds.

He had to sit himself on the couch to calm down. He heard a loud thud outside the door, his heart jumping at the sound. John hurried towards it, pulling it open and seeing Sherlock slumped down on the floor covered in blood, wearing a tattered suit, and shaking uncontrollably. John cursed quietly and helped him slowly off the floor.

John helped him sit down on the couch and looked over him for a moment. His head was blank as he stared at the cuts and bruises that covered his body. When he heard a whimper come from Sherlock, a man who was almost steel, his mind kicked into gear. All the books he read when he was younger on Shadows and their hosts, all the information, came flooding back. He needed to feed Sherlock everything he could, bandage him up, and let him sleep for a few days.

Humans that are host for Shadows rarely eat or sleep. It's just something that happens when another creature is in their bodies, it's like the Shadow is keeping them alive with just their presence. But when a Shadow took control, it would drain their human until they were on empty ready to collapse and die. It was dangerous for the both of them. If the host dies so does the Shadow.

John quickly gathered everything from their kitchen that was edible. It wasn't much, they hadn't been living there long and John was still out of work, but it seemed to please Sherlock. He started eating the moment the food was in front of him. John ran to get his first aid kit, knowing that he needed to get Sherlock to stop bleeding before he fell asleep.

When he came back out most of the food was gone and Sherlock looked up at him. John could see he needed him. It didn't need to be spoken, John was there for him. He started cleaning off Sherlock's torso, finding more cuts than he could wish for. While he ate John stitched up the larger wounds he could find on Sherlock and wrapped most of his body with bandages. He checked his head for any damage and luckily found none.

"Come on," John whispered to the recovering man. "Let me take you to your room." Sherlock didn't protest. He let John sling his arm around his shoulders and haul him off the couch. His breathing quickened as John put too much pressure on his side. "Sorry," he mumbled as he started for the detective's room.

John slowly lowered him onto the large bed, making sure to be careful of anymore wounds. Sherlock laid flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling for a few seconds before shutting his eyes. The doctor let out a breath and turned to leave when a hand shot out to grab his wrist. "Don't leave me," Sherlock sounded broken.

John looked down at him. Sherlock's eyes were still closed; his body looked relaxed, but his grip was tight. He moved closer to the bed and sat next to it. He swallowed hard and stroked Sherlock's fingers so he knew he was staying. "I won't," he murmured. His wrist was let go and it dropped to his side. John laid his head on the side of the bed and watched as sleep overtook Sherlock.

X

John found a job at a nearby doctor's office. He was a bit over qualified but they hired him on as a temp for a few of the doctors that were out for a while. He was grateful to have the job, even if it would take away time from helping Sherlock. He needed the job though, the rent wouldn't pay itself. Plus he would be out of the flat more often, which was what he needed from time to time.

He wasn't expecting much of a reaction from Sherlock when he came home but he was expecting something. Instead, John got nothing from him. He just nodded and continued on with an experiment. John wanted to try to provoke him to say something but gave up. He should have known Sherlock wouldn't care about his career.

X

One day, while John was at work he was chatting with Sarah, another doctor. He was flirting with her, though, trying not to make it noticeable. She was his boss after all and didn't want to get in trouble. He was leaning across the counter she was standing behind with a charming smile on his face. An unexpected yawn escaped his lips and he did his best to cover it up. "Sorry," he said. The night before he ended up working on a case with Sherlock until the wee hours of morning. "I was up late doing something."

"A date with a girlfriend?" Sarah asked.

John almost said it was Sherlock but kept his mouth shut. "No, not a date," he assured her. "And I don't have one for tonight." He decided to just dive in and come out with the fact that he was interested in her. "Would you like to go on one with me?"

Sarah beamed at him. She didn't even try to hide it. "I would love to," she told him.

"Movie? Dinner?" John questioned. "I'll pick you up at seven."

"That sounds wonderful," Sarah nodded. She grabbed a notepad and wrote down her address for him. She slipped it into his hand and before giving it a little squeeze. "See you at seven."

X

John walked home with a spring in his step. He ignored almost everything around him. He hadn't had a date since he got home from Afghanistan. He reached the flat quickly, bounding up the steps two at a time. He paused momentarily in the living room, staring at Sherlock who looked a mess. "What happened to you?" he questioned. A sudden dread passed over him, he could picture Sherlock changing without him being here to help him afterwards but he dismissed it. Shadows never took over in the day unless something was put into their systems that forced them to change.

Sherlock looked up at him from the couch. "Just bored," he huffed and sat up. His eyes darted over John's form, a bit of anger showing in them. "Date tonight?"

John opened his mouth, amazed with how fast he figured it out. "Yeah," he laughed, pink stained his cheeks. He rubbed the back of his neck; he shouldn't have felt embarrassed of the fact. "Sarah is her name, she's really nice." He didn't know why he said that. Sherlock didn't care about that either. "I'm going at seven so I have a few hours. I'm going to take a nap before I have to go. I wouldn't have to if someone didn't keep me up catching Chinese smugglers."

Sherlock scowled at him. "Not my fault you didn't give up," he told him. He pulled his dressing gown tighter around his shoulders and flopped back down on his side, facing away from John. "Have fun with Sarah."

John stared at his back for a moment before nodding. If Sherlock was going to be in one of his moods he was going to ignore him as well. He took off his jacket and hung it up before jogging up to his room.

X

The date went well. John did his best to be polite. He spent the whole night listening to her as she talked about herself. He avoided anything about his personal life. If he did every story would be about Sherlock. The man was overtaking everything John did. A girl he was on a date with would not want to hear about him.

John was on her stoop, looking at her waiting to say goodbye. He wanted to reach out and kiss her but he wasn't sure she would let him. "Well," he started off, trying to dispel the awkward silence that formed between them. "I think I should get going."

Sarah grabbed his hands. John flushed a bit but quickly straightened his shoulders. She started leaning in expecting John to meet her halfway. John was going to kiss her when he heard a screeching noise. He pulled back instantly. "What's wrong?" she asked when she finally opened her eyes.

John looked around behind him. "Did you hear that?" he asked.

"The car using their horrible brakes?" Sarah raised her eyebrows.

John knew that noise wasn't a car. It was a Shadow, maybe more on the prowl around London. He shook his head and took his hands back from Sarah. The screeching noise came again but closer. "You should get inside," he told her trying to convey a message using his eyes. If he told her out right what was wrong he would be put down as a nut job like all the rest. "It's getting late."

"Did you not enjoy our night?" Sarah crossed her arms.

John looked up at her with wide eyes. "Of course I enjoyed out night, but I need to get home. Get some sleep. I barely got any last night remember?" he explained. "Please, just go inside, I'll see you tomorrow at work." He needed her to get inside, she could be in danger. Shadows were hostile creatures, there are stories of them killing humans left and right but John knew they mostly fought themselves. That's why Sherlock always came home after a change covered in cuts and bruises.

Sarah nodded. "Goodnight John," she sighed and shut her door.

John took out his phone and dialed Sherlock's number. He wanted to know if Sherlock was one of those out. After receiving the voicemail John hung up and sent him a text just in case he was being a child and not answering calls. He didn't want to believe it was Sherlock. Humans that had a Shadow only changed a few times a month. Sherlock already changed four times; he shouldn't have change until the next month unless he used something that forced on the change. He heard the screeching noise again. It was incredibly close now. John knew for sure that it was only one Shadow.

He did the dumb thing and ran towards the noise. He ended up on a secluded street, full of shops; only the street lamps provided light for him. His ears were assaulted with the horrible noise once again. He covered his ears, trying to block out the sound. His eyes shut involuntarily and his breathing quickened.

John felt a hot breath on his face. He cracked open one eye and was faced with a pitch black face and piercing white eyes. He swallowed hard and tried not to be afraid. The Shadow opened its mouth, showing off its three inch long teeth, and let out another ear splitting scream. John shut his eyes and turned away, a bit of spit hitting his head.

Turning back to the Shadow John watched it as it stood up straight, reaching its full height of nine feet. John stared at it. He had never seen one in real life. It looked like a human except its black skin was darker than the sky, and its black claws shined in the light. He wanted nothing more than to touch it to know what it felt like but that would be suicide.

He should have been running but that would have been futile. Shadows moved quickly, one of the reasons only a few people have seen them. It would have caught him before he reached the end of the street. John wondered why he wasn't dead already. He opened his eyes again and saw the Shadow staring at him, breathing heavily.

John bit his lip and lifted a hand slowly. He touched the Shadow's torso, the skin felt sleek, almost like rubber. His heart was beating loudly in his ears. He moved his hands to the Shadow's hand. He ran his finger across one of its claws; it was cold and felt like metal. A smile overtook his face, he was touching a creature he spent most of his life studying.

The hand in his started shrinking. John looked up and watched as the Shadow changed back into its human form. His stomach turned to lead when he saw Sherlock's face. His friend dropped to his knees when the transformation was finished. John gripped his hand; he was angry, disappointed, and sad. There were only a few things that forced a change, all type of drugs, nuts, and dairy. John made sure they didn't have any nuts or dairy in the flat, he gave up having milk in anything when he moved in, but he didn't know about the drugs. He trusted Sherlock not to start up again, it looked like he couldn't trust him for that.

"John," Sherlock's small voice reached his ears. He couldn't look up at him, he knew John was angry.

John cursed under his breathe. "Let's get you home," he sighed and lifted Sherlock from the ground. He looked over his disheveled form, checking for any injuries but he saw nothing that needed attention. He laughed quietly despite his anger. "I always wondered how you manage to keep you clothes on after a change." Sherlock remained silent. John frowned and pulled him along lazily.

X

After Sherlock's stomach was filled John dropped him on his bed. As usual John was going to sleep in Sherlock's room again, the other man wouldn't let him leave, usually though he slept on the floor next to him but he undressed and crawled onto the bed next to him. There was no need for him hurt his back any more than he already did after carrying him back to the flat. He watched Sherlock who was in turn staring at him. "I'm sorry John," Sherlock said.

John let out a slow sigh. Sherlock was always more emotional, more open, more vulnerable, after a change. The doctor ran his fingers over the back of his hand. "Go to sleep," he told him. He was going to talk to him when he woke up but right now he was going to let him rest.

X

Days later, when Sherlock woke, John was sitting in the living room waiting for him. He was reading the newspaper calmly, barely looking up when he entered the room. He waited until Sherlock was on the couch before putting down the newspaper and folding his hands on his lap. "Sherlock," he started off a frown set on his face, "I'm disappointed in you."

Sherlock shifted in his seat. "You sound like my mother," he mumbled.

"Sherlock you took drugs," John laughed sardonically. He rubbed his face before continuing. "You took drugs even though you know what it does. Not only does it change you but it also messes with your whole body. You can still die from taking them. I don't know how you can be so stupid to actually do them."

Sherlock looked down. John could see the tension in his shoulders. "I was bored," he tried to explain.

John shook his head. "That's no excuse," he scolded.

"I was lonely!" Sherlock yelled. His hands were clenched in his hair. "I couldn't handle it John. Have you ever felt so lonely that you heart feels like it's going to rip itself out?" He was breathing hard, his eyes intense as they stared at John.

John sat back, not sure what to say. He wanted to look away but he couldn't move his eyes from his. "Is that why you take them?" he asked eventually.

Sherlock dropped his gaze once again. "I'm not going to talk about it anymore," he huffed and stood abruptly.

John grabbed his arm before he could make it far. "Don't take them anymore," he tried pleading with his eyes, "for me."

"Fine," Sherlock pulled his arm back and went to the kitchen.

X

John was eventually dumped by Sarah after a few failed dates, Sherlock interrupting most of them. John found a few more girls to date, not letting his social life outside of Sherlock die yet. They all ended in ruins as Sherlock ruined every one of them. John didn't want to blame him though; it was just small things, like an off comment about their private lives, or a text during dinner. John was able to get over it; he figured everyone else could.

He was able to find a nice woman from the supermarket named Elizabeth. He met her when he was on his weekly shopping spree. They exchanged numbers and John planned a date for a few nights after their meeting.

They were going out on their date; John had her meet up at his flat because the restaurant they were going to was right down the street. John didn't want her to come up to the flat so when the doorbell rang he ran down the stairs and out the front door.

"Ready to go?" he asked with a smile. A cold wind blew and he pulled his jacket tighter. She nodded, trying to hide a giggle. He checked his pockets to make sure he had everything. He sighed when he couldn't find his wallet. "I have to get my wallet. Sorry."

"I don't mind," Elizabeth laughed. "Do you mind if I come in while you find it though? It's a bit chilly out here."

John glanced up to their floor of the flat then back to her. "Sure," he tried not to sound too reluctant. He opened the door and led the way up to their flat. "My flatmate is in here, it's best if you don't talk to him. He's a little rough with new people."

"Okay," Elizabeth giggled more. She tucked some hair behind her ear and followed in behind him.

John shot a worried look over to his flatmate and nodded. "I'll be right back," he whispered to Elizabeth before he ran up to his room to fetch his wallet. As he walked down the stairs again, he heard a quiet sob. He shut his eyes and wanted to hit something. He knew he shouldn't have left the two in the same room together. He entered the living room slowly, trying to figure out the situation before he stepped fully into it.

Elizabeth turned to him with red eyes. She opened her mouth a few times, small hiccups escaping instead of words, before she ran out. John turned and was going to run after her but let decided not to. He dropped his chin to his chest not even bothering looking at Sherlock.

"It had to be done," Sherlock simply told him. He stood up and walked over to John. "I can't have you dating any longer John."

John looked up at him with a confused gaze. "What do you mean you can't have me dating?" he questioned. Sherlock stepped closer and caged him in against the wall with his arms on either side of him. "What are you doing?"

"You're my mate," Sherlock stated.

John gaped at him. He shook his head and swallowed. "I can't be your mate Sherlock," he told him. "I…I can't be your mate." He remembered reading about Shadows and their mates. "I can't have children."

"Tut, tut John," Sherlock shook his head, "you know that's not how it works. If I want you it doesn't matter if you can have children or not."

John pushed against his chest trying to get him to move but he didn't budge. "I don't want you, not like that," he said. "I'm just your friend."

Sherlock leaned in, his mouth close to his ear. "Then you know what I will do," he whispered. "A Shadow will do anything to get their mate." He kissed his cheek.

John shoved him away. "I'm not gay," he said. He wiped his cheek and walked into the hallway. He growled when he heard Sherlock's footsteps behind him. "Stop following me."

"John I love you," Sherlock told him.

"Well I don't love you," John turned on him. He saw the hurt in his eyes. He knew it hurt them whenever the person they chose to spend the rest of their life with says that. "Sherlock, you can't just make me your mate. When did you even choose this?"

"Some time ago," Sherlock said. "I thought it was clear. I mean, I even told you I was lonely. I thought that was a good enough sign."

John stared at him before shaking his head. He threw his hands in the air and spun around. "No, I can't do this," he said. He ran a hand through his hair. He felt Sherlock's hands on his waist and was pulled towards him.

"Try," Sherlock whispered into his ear. "Please."

John shut his eyes. It made sense now, every time Sherlock chased away a girlfriend was because he wanted him. But he didn't like Sherlock like that; he couldn't like him like that. He was his best friend, nothing more. "Can't we stay together without getting romantic?" he asked.

"I don't want that," Sherlock dictated. His hands tightened on John. "I can't turn it off John."

John let out a breath. He could deny this for Sherlock, but that would make it a living nightmare for him. As Sherlock said Shadows would do anything to get the mate they want. He didn't want to do stuff like that with Sherlock though, he wasn't attracted to him. He took in a deep breath. "I'll try," he let out. "I won't do anything I'm not comfortable with though. Do you understand that?"

Sherlock buried his head in the nook of John's neck. "Thank you," he cried happily. He wound his arms around him fully. "What aren't you going to be comfortable with?"

"Sex," John started out with his major concern.

Sherlock shook his head. "I don't want that, there's no need to worry," he mumbled.

"I'm fine with kissing," John cringed; he never thought he would say that to another man, "but nothing heavy. I don't have a desire to taste your tongue. Also, no feeling me up, although, I guess something like this would be fine."

Sherlock nodded and held him tighter. "Is that it?" he asked.

John bit his lip. Sherlock grazed his lips lightly across his shoulder. "That's all I have for now," he told him. He looked down at the arms around him. "Something might come up later on."

"Thank you," Sherlock repeated. John barely heard those words come out of his mouth. "I love you."

John nodded and pulled away. He knew Shadows felt great emotions for their mates but he would probably never say it back, and if he did it wouldn't be the same way for him as it was for Sherlock. "I think I need to sleep now," he said. "Goodnight."

"I'll come with you," Sherlock quickly said.

John gave him a weird look. "You never sleep Sherlock," he said. "Plus, I want to sleep alone tonight. I've had an odd day."

Sherlock bobbed his head. "I understand," he said. He shoved his hands in his pockets like he was resisting touching John. "I'll be down here doing something."

John frowned, he looked a bit lost. He sighed and leaned against the banister. "What are you going to do?" he asked. "I mean up in my room, if you don't sleep."

"Just lay there," Sherlock shrugged. "It would be my first time being in the same bed with you while I'm conscious."

John started up the stairs. "Come on then," he called over his shoulder. He smiled a little as Sherlock ran up the steps behind him. John striped to his boxers. He glanced at Sherlock who was watching him closely. "Don't you need to change too?"

Sherlock ran out of the room leaving John alone. He sighed and fell back on the bed. Sherlock was so different, John didn't know how to handle the drastic change in his personality or how long it was going to last. He heard Sherlock running up the stairs again and moved so he was lying properly on the bed. He pulled the covers over him, turned off the light just as Sherlock came in and shut his eyes. He felt the bed sink and Sherlock move close behind him. As an arm was settled around his waist he knew he wasn't going to get much sleep that night.

X

John rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palm as he walked home. He had a long day at work; he had to go in early and leave late. He sent a text to Sherlock warning that he was going to be home late, if it was a few weeks before he wouldn't have bothered sending the text. He'd been getting used to the new relationship. He still felt off by a few things, but the occasional touches and Sherlock sleeping next to him when he wasn't doing anything was comforting. The kissing threw him off whenever it happened though.

He zipped up his jacket in a useless attempt at keeping warm as he rounded onto Baker Street. He saw Lestrade's police car outside their flat and was grateful for it. Sherlock never tried anything in front of the officers from the Yard; John was hoping he would get a break from being Sherlock's partner for a little bit.

John jogged down the street. Once he reached the black door he pushed it open and started up the stairs. He heard their voices pause, causing him to stop before shaking his head and laughing at himself. He felt a bit nervous for no reason at all. He licked his lips and continued up the stairs. "I'm home," he announced like they already didn't know. He scratched the back of his neck as he peered over at Lestrade. "Do you have a case? God knows Sherlock needs one."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the doctor a small smile playing at his lips. "He's trying to give me one," he told him. John raised his eyebrows, silently adding 'but?' at the end of the sentence. "It's a particularly boring one though."

"Sherlock, we need your help," Lestrade sounded frustrated.

John ran his fingers through his hair. "What is it about?" he asked.

"Two men found dead in a dumpster," Sherlock cut off the detective inspector before he could even get a word in. "One strangled the other with his head bashed in. Lestrade, you should really know the answer to this one."

Lestrade looked like he needed a drink. "If you could just go down to the morgue, take a quick look at the bodies. Anything would help us right now," he pleaded.

John could see he was defeated. It didn't sound like too hard of a case but there could be more to it that Sherlock wasn't getting because Lestrade hadn't seen it. He turned to Sherlock with a frown. "Just go, it might be a good one, and it's better than moping around the flat," he sighed and turned into the kitchen. He heard them start up the conversation again. He hoped he would take the case.

He heard the door close and then Lestrade driving off. John finished buttering his toast and turned around. He backed up hitting the counter as he noticed Sherlock right behind him. "Don't do that," he swallowed. Sherlock hadn't back up yet so John looked away. "So, are you taking the case?"

"Yes, will you come with me?" Sherlock asked resting his head against John's shoulder.

John's cheeks flushed. "I'm really tired," he told him. "I wouldn't be any help." He looked down at the top of Sherlock's head. He was lying, he was tired but not tired enough to not go on a case; he just wanted a few more hours alone. He hoped Sherlock didn't catch him lying.

Sherlock lifted his head, looked John in the eye and pulled away. "I understand," his voice was cold. John knew he was caught. "I'll go alone, nothing new."

John grabbed his arm. "I've been on the last three cases," he tried to justify his lie; "you don't need me on this one."

"You're trying to avoid me," Sherlock growled. He took in a deep breath. "It doesn't matter. I don't know when I'll be home."

John sighed and watched as Sherlock stormed out of the flat. He kicked his foot against the floor before running after him. He was lucky to see that he didn't catch a cab yet. He sidled next to him and nudged him with his arm. "I'm sorry," he let out in a huff. "You have to understand, I'm not used to this. I know it's been a few weeks but that still doesn't mean that I'll suddenly be comfortable with it. I just wanted to take a night to myself, try to get my head together."

A taxi pulled up in front of them, Sherlock climbed in silently. John shut his eyes and groaned. He slipped in next to him and waited. Sherlock moved closer to John, lowering his head. "I've barely seen you today," he pointed out.

John held his breath. This was something he wasn't used to. Sherlock was usually cold and uncaring, but after his confession of sorts he had been definitely nicer, and more open about things. Only with John of course, which he enjoyed because it made him feel different from the rest of the world; he was no longer ordinary John. "I know," he finally said.

Sherlock turned his head up. John stared into his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" Sherlock asked hesitantly. John looked around, his eyes darting everywhere to see if anyone was looking. Sherlock moved away shaking his head. "Never mind."

John frowned and felt guilt pool in the bottom his stomach. He leaned against the window and waited for the cab to reach Saint Bart's.

It didn't take long. They pulled up to the hospital and Sherlock climbed out; John sighed and handed over his money to the driver. He walked into the hospital, not seeing Sherlock anywhere. He dropped his shoulders and made his way down to the morgue alone. He could hear Lestrade talking with the detective already, and could see Molly watching them intently. John slipped in, barely noticed, and leaned against the wall.

X

Several hours later, they were still in the morgue. Sherlock had been looking over the bodies, and the evidence he sent Lestrade to fetch and John had helped a little but not much. He remained against the wall most of the time, almost falling asleep standing up. He knew he should have just stayed home; he would have blamed Sherlock for making him come but that would have been wrong. He was the one that felt guilty; he's the one that let it get to him and ran after him.

He shook his head and watched Sherlock move around the morgue. Molly was still there, occasionally she would pop in and out of the room because she had other work to do, but she had to keep an eye on Sherlock and the bodies, more of Sherlock though. John scowled, no one paying attention to him, and stepped closer to Sherlock and looked over his shoulder.

His eyes darted up to Molly who was still staring at Sherlock. He placed his hand on Sherlock's back and leaned closer. "I thought you said it was going to be easy, we've been here for hours," he told him.

Sherlock looked away from the picture he was holding and smiled at him, his eyes going from John to Molly. "It is, I'm trying to find every shred of evidence I could show to Lestrade to show how easily he could have solved this without my help," he explained. "Look at them, isn't it easy to know who killed them?"

John scanned over the two bodies. He noticed bruising on one man's neck, and the other's face was no longer recognizable as human. He shook his head slowly. "No, I can't see it," he admitted after a moment.

Sherlock smirked and pointed to the one man's neck. "There's a small cut here," he started, "you can barely make it out. If you look closer you can see a bit more bruising around the area as well. Now, after looking at the corpses belongings, I knew it was a ring that cut the neck." He moved to the other body, John close behind him. He lifted the man's hand. "You can see a tan line on his finger where the ring was worn every day. Conclusion, this man killed that man."

"Then who killed him?" John asked.

Sherlock nodded. "That's not so obvious," he said wagging his finger. "It couldn't have been our victim over here, he was killed by him and probably didn't have time to grab something and hit him with it. But you can see that the angle of the object, which I suspect to be a bat, when it hit, came from the side. So there is a third person involved with the crime." He turned on his heel and grabbed two bags from the other table. "The only connection found between these two men was a girl."

"Lovers spat?" John questioned.

"No. That was my first thought," Sherlock said. He showed him two different pictures, one of a small girl with blond hair and one of a woman with blond hair. "These are pictures of the same woman but in different times of her life. The older one was found in the wallet of the man who had his head smashed in and the newer one was found in the strangled man's wallet.

"Now, to begin with, I had two theories. Theory one was that these two men were in a relationship with the blond woman in the photo; theory two was that the man with his head smashed in is the blond woman's brother and this man was a boyfriend or a friend that he didn't like for some reason unknown. Theory two seems more plausible now. The picture is one from her childhood; the brother still carries it around in his wallet because he still thinks of her as a little sister that needs protection. I know they are some type of family, brother and sister being the most common because they have some family resemblance because of their ears; they are formed in much of the same way."

John stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly. He shut it quickly and smiled. "Brilliant," he sighed. He shook his head and laughed. "Absolutely brilliant."

Sherlock's eyes lit up and a smile crept on his face as he looked down upon John. Molly cleared her throat; John turned to her, remembering that she was there. "I have to go, if you need me just send a text, I have my phone on," she said with a nervous smile and quickly left the room.

John watched her leaved before retreating back to his corner. He could still feel Sherlock's eyes on him as he moved. He crossed his arms and propped his head against the wall, shutting his eyes. "Can you just call Lestrade and give him the information you already have?" he asked.

"I sent him a text telling him to go to their flats," Sherlock answered, "told him to ask around for the blond woman; she's the key to solving this completely. We find her and we can fill in the last few details and lay this to rest."

"Good," John hummed happily. He rolled his head against the wall and opened his eyes. "Maybe then we can go home and sleep." He heard the familiar sound of Sherlock's phone receiving a message and watched as he checked it. He was silently praying that it was Lestrade and they could leave.

"They found her," Sherlock announced pulling on his jacket. John thanked god under his breath. He sent another text before pocketing his phone. In two short steps he was in front of John, blocking him into the corner. John's eyes widened but he kept silent. "You're jealous of Molly."

John made a face. "No, I'm not," he informed him. He put his hands against Sherlock's stomach but didn't push him like he planned to.

"Yes you are," Sherlock whispered, a smile on his face. "You watched her as she stared at me then came over. You put your hand on my back and looked to see if she was watching; she was by the way."

"That wasn't jealousy, I was just talking to you," John protested. He wasn't going to admit anything. Sherlock continued to stare at him, calculating every movement he made. John looked down at his hands and moved them to the detective's sides.

"Come on John, we both know you were showing her that she couldn't have me," Sherlock whispered. "You wanted to show her that I'm yours."

John gripped his shirt. His breathing quickened, and his heart started pounding harder. He didn't know what made him do it but he pulled Sherlock down and kissed him. He held him there a few moments, feeling the pressure against his lips.

"Oh," Molly squeaked from the door. John pulled away from Sherlock, his cheeks red. "I thought you two would have left already."

Sherlock's mouth twitched, only John could see it, before he stood up straight. "We just have to gather the evidence then you can take care of the cadavers."

John ran a hand through his hair and walked over to the examining and started to pick up a few of the files. He walked out behind Sherlock, glancing at Molly as they were leaving, she didn't look too happy.

X

John stood behind Sherlock, trying to hide his wincing when they were brought over to her. She had bruises covering her face. "Excellent," Sherlock let out as he started circling the poor woman.

John saw the discomfort on her face and tried to step in. "What's your name?" he asked in a soft voice.

"Her names Kelly Harding," Sherlock told him, "sister of Mike Harding, the dead man with the picture of her as a small child." Kelly made a noise and started to sob. John shot a glare towards Sherlock, silently yelling at him. "Don't feel too bad for her John; she did kill her brother."

"How did you know?" Kelly asked horrified.

Sherlock stepped out in front of her. "Mike showed up at your boyfriend's house, caught him beating you," he started. "He saw it as the last straw and started to strangle your boyfriend, eventually killing him. You grabbed a bat, feeling the need to protect you boyfriend, and started beating your brother."

Kelly looked down. "If he didn't come over none of this would have happened," she snarled. "I told him I was fine; he didn't have to come."

"Lestrade," Sherlock called turning away from her. Lestrade tromped into the room. "Arrest her for murder."

"You're under arrest," Lestrade started as he cuffed her and lead her out of the room.

Sherlock smiled at John who smiled back. "That was good," John nodded, "although you have to work on you manners a bit."

Sherlock waved off the comment. "Are you ready to go home now?" he asked.

"Of course," John sighed. He walked out of the door into the night. Sherlock was close on his heels, his hand coming forward to brush against John's. The doctor looked over at him before taking his hand.

X

John stumbled tiredly into the flat. He grew more tired in the cab they caught and almost fell asleep. He leaned against the banister, looking up the stairs to his room. The thought of working his way up them put dread in his mind. Sherlock grabbed him by the arm and lead him to his bedroom. "We can sleep here for tonight," he told him.

John nodded, agreeing full heartedly. He grinned when he saw Sherlock's bed. He toed off his shoes and fell forward on the bed. He started pulling off his clothes, his fingers fumbling with the buttons. He groaned and dropped his hands to his sides. He hated what he was going to do, but he didn't want to fall asleep in his clothes. "Sherlock, can you help me?" he asked.

Sherlock chuckled and came forward. "Ordinary humans, your ability to feel tired so often amazes me," he said as he started undoing John's shirt. John turned his head away, his face bright red, with his heart pounding rapidly. Sherlock pulled off his jeans easily, laughing quietly at John's discomfort. He leaned down and kissed him lightly on his cheek. He pulled away and started changing himself.

John pulled himself further up on the bed. When he woke up that morning he had not been expecting to kiss Sherlock, and then have him undress him before going to bed. He curled up on his side, his mind trying to find the solution. Maybe he was starting to like Sherlock. He shook his head and buried his face into the pillow.

Sherlock climbed on the bed, and wrapped his arms around John. "Good night John," he whispered.

"Good night," John mumbled.

**This is the first part of this series. I imagine there to just be two more. I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought of it. BYE!**


	2. Chapter 2

**The second part is here. I want to thank everyone who reviewed on the first one. Um, I hope you enjoy this. Have fun. See ya. **

John groaned as he heard someone yelling. He lifted his head, not being able to move much with Sherlock lying on top of him. The voice called out again and he recognized it as Lestrade's. He had two options, stay where he was and hope the detective left in defeat, or get up, and give him an excuse why he was in Sherlock's room, to see why he was there. He chose the second option, Lestrade knew where Sherlock slept and might look for him them and then find John in the position he was in. He wasn't ready to flaunt their relationship just yet, seeing as it was a difficult one for him to be in.

He lifted the consultant detective off of him slowly; he didn't want to wake him after the night he had. John quickly got dressed before pulling up Sherlock's shirt to check out the large wound. He ran his fingers down his back along the stitches, remembering the night before. He shut his eyes and shook his head when there was a knock on the bedroom door.

John quickly pulled his hand away; he opened the door and greeted Lestrade with a smile. "Do you need something Lestrade?" he asked politely.

Lestrade gave him a weird look and peered around John's shoulder, making sure he got the right room. "Is Sherlock in there?" he asked. John nodded. "Good, I have a case for him."

John glanced behind him. He knew he could wake him if he used enough force but it might cause harm to Sherlock. He only had been asleep for a few hours, definitely not enough for him to be fully recharged. He bit his lip, trying to think of what to do. "On a scale of one to ten how interesting is it?" he questioned.

Lestrade gave him a weird look. "Uh, six," he tried.

John bit his lip and looked back in the room. "Sherlock isn't feeling well, can you use him in a day or two?" he asked. A six wasn't a good enough reason to wake Sherlock up, if it was a seven maybe, but not a six.

"Is he really that sick?" Lestrade asked.

"Yeah, well, he had a rough night last night," John said. He cleared his throat. "Can you wait two days?"

Lestrade rubbed his head. "I don't think I can," he told him. "We've been at the scene for a while now and we can't find anything. I'm afraid that the killer will kill again. We really need him. How sick is he?"

John sighed, wishing Lestrade never showed up. "He's not sick; he's beaten up pretty bad, a few stitches you know," he explained. "I'll try to wake him up but if he can't do it then you'll have to wait. Give me the address and I'll call you with the answer."

Lestrade quickly wrote down the address. "Thank you John," he smiled. He left the flat again.

John moved back into the room. He stared at Sherlock silently, watching him breath. He slowly walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge. "Sherlock," he said loudly. He put his hand on his shoulder and shook him a bit, trying to be careful of his back. "Sherlock wake up." He wasn't stirring, not even a noise was made. "Sherlock," John said louder. "Lestrade was here and he wants you on a case."

Sherlock moaned and opened his eyes slowly. "Why am I up?" he asked.

John frowned; he knew he should have just said no to the DI. "Lestrade wants you on a case, are you up to it?" he asked rubbing his arm slowly.

Sherlock's eyes closed again. "What day is it?" he yawned.

John looked to his feet. "It's Monday still," he answered. "I'm sorry I woke you up. I'll tell Lestrade that you can't do it, just go back to sleep." He stood up but Sherlock stopped him. He turned on his side and sat up, groaning loudly. "No, no, go back to sleep. I shouldn't have woken you up."

"John, I'm up, might as well go look at the scene," Sherlock huffed. He tried to lift himself out of bed but didn't get far. "John?"

John hooked his arm around his waist and helped him off the bed. "Really, Lestrade said he would understand if you couldn't."

"Then why did you wake me up?" Sherlock snapped.

"You can easily go back to sleep," John said. He knew Sherlock was still waking up and his moods would be worse than usual because of how tired it he was. "I'm sorry for waking you up; I knew it was a mistake."

"No, I'm going to get up, I'm going to the crime scene, and then I will rest," Sherlock rubbed his eyes.

John stared at him silently. "Fine; I did bring this on myself," he sighed. "How's your back?"

Sherlock pulled away from him and stumbled to his dresser. "It's fine," he grunted.

John nodded and moved closer to him; in case he fell he was there to catch him. "Are you lying so I won't do anything?" he questioned.

Sherlock didn't answer. He got dressed silently, small noises of pain escaping him. John cringed, feeling bad at every noise Sherlock made. He looked to the floor and ran a hand through his hair. He heard Sherlock sigh and felt his arms on his shoulders. He looked up; Sherlock was staring at him.

"I love you," Sherlock said.

John dropped his eyes again; he half expected his stomach to feel sick from the words like usual but it didn't. He moved his eyes back to Sherlock's and smiled. Maybe he was getting used to that too. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he sighed. He kissed him quickly and pulled away. "Are you ready to go?"

Sherlock dropped his arms from around John and nodded. "Oh god," he groaned as he moved with John out to the street, the bright light blinding.

"Alright?" John asked, holding onto his arm so he wouldn't fall over.

Sherlock nodded. "Where is it?" he asked as he massaged his side. John repeated the address. "Get a cab; I won't be able to walk that far."

"Sherlock, are you sure you want to do this?" John asked again. When he received a glare he moved closer to the road and hailed a taxi. He opened the door and helped Sherlock in. He slid in and gave the address to the cabbie.

Sherlock wound his arms around John and buried his head in John's neck. "It hurts," he moaned. He kissed him lightly and shut his eyes.

"You're back?" John questioned.

Sherlock bobbed his head. "And everything else," he continued. "Even my eyes hurt."

John squeezed his eyes shut and carefully encircled him in his arms. "Are you complaining?" he asked humorously.

Sherlock pulled away and leaned his head on his shoulder. "No, I'm telling you what's wrong with me," he said.

John rolled his eyes and was happy the cab came to a stop. He pulled himself forward and paid the driver. "Come on Sherlock," he said as he helped him out of the cab. He was leaning on him heavily still and John tried to make him stand on his own. "Please, can you stand?"

Sherlock pushed himself off a John with a frown. "Still ashamed I see," he said. He picked up his pace and walked to the house where the police tape was placed. Lestrade was standing outside talking with another officer.

John cursed silently and jogged to keep up with him. "Lestrade, I got him here," he called to the DI.

Lestrade turned and winced when he saw the state of Sherlock. "Who did you get into a fight with? A car?"

John licked his lips and watched Sherlock closely. "I rather not talk about it," Sherlock told him with a stern look. "Where's the body?"

Lestrade glanced at John before nodding his head towards the house. "Follow me," he said and led them into the room. "Her neighbor found her when he came over to get his keys from her."

John shut his eyes when he saw the shredded body lying in front of them. He heard Sherlock make a noise and looked at him. He could see a look of horror on his face before he erased it. "This place is a mess, there was definitely a struggle," Sherlock told them. He picked up a piece of glass and sniffed it. The smell of Shadow blood was on it; he ran his finger across it and felt the clear blood between his fingers. He threw it aside and looked around. He reached out and touched the woman's arm.

John watched him. He knew the wounds on the woman were from a Shadow. Sherlock wasn't going to be able to solve this one; he couldn't prove who killed her. Suddenly Sherlock stood up and spun on his foot. John jumped back, surprised with the sudden movement. He watched him leave the room before glancing at Lestrade with an apologetic look. 'Is he really that angry he can't solve it?' he asked himself as he chased at him.

He found him in the front yard pacing back and forth. John ran up to him and tried to stop him. "Sherlock, it's alright," he said calmly. "You can't catch every killer that commits a crime."

Sherlock turned on him; he could see he was scared. "You don't understand, John," he grabbed him by the shoulders; "I think it was me."

"You?" John asked. He shook his head. "No, it wasn't you, you didn't kill her. You got into a fight with another Shadow, that's why you're so beat up."

Sherlock started breathing heavily. "What if there was another one trying to stop me?" he asked. "What if I was killing her and another Shadow attacked me? You know Shadows are vicious blood thirsty creatures. We'll do anything for a fight."

"Listen to me," John told him in a soothing voice. He placed his hand over Sherlock's heart and looked into his eyes. "I know you didn't kill her because you're a good man. You have a good heart. I don't believe people who have Shadows automatically become total monsters when they change. I believe it's the person's heart that controls the Shadow."

Sherlock stared into his eyes. "But," he started.

"No, Sherlock, you're tired, you're not seeing the whole picture," John stated. "If a Shadow killed this poor woman and you believe there were two involved, then you would be the one to stop the Shadow killing her."

Sherlock smiled softly. He placed his hand over John's and the other on his hip. "I'm going to trust you," he whispered.

"Good," John said. "Let's go home, there's nothing you can do here." He pulled Sherlock to the road and hailed a cab again.

Lestrade ran out of the house. "Wait, guys," he yelled. "What about the scene?"

"Unsolvable," John yelled and shut the door. As they drove off he received a text from him. "He doesn't know what to do now."

Sherlock laughed and laid his head on John's lap. "He never knows what to do," he laughed. He grabbed John's hand kissed it.

John smiled and ran his finger over his cheek. "You're beautiful," he told him. As he listened to his own words his eyes widened a bit in surprise; the words rolled off his tongue without a thought.

Sherlock looked up at him with a smile. John returned it and leaned down a little; Sherlock met him halfway and kissed him. "I love you," he whispered. John kissed him again and sat back with a large smile on his face.

X

John was tossing and turning in bed. Dark images danced around in his head, a bright light flashed blinding John further. He opened his eyes quickly, met with only the darkness of the room. He turned on his side, breathing heavily, and felt for Sherlock. He squeezed his eyes shut when his hand was met with a cold mattress.

He sat up and climbed out of the bed. He walked out to the living room and saw Lestrade sitting in his chair with a smile on his face. John looked around more and saw officers searching the flat. He covered his shoulder, self-conscious of his scar and looked towards Sherlock who halted his pacing. "What are you guys doing here?" he asked as he stayed by the door.

"They're doing a pretend drugs bust," Sherlock told him. He looked John over and nodded. He looked at Lestrade. "If you can handle looking for something not here I want to talk with John privately."

Lestrade held out his hands. "As long as you don't try to hide anything I'm fine with it," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm clean," he told him as he pushed John lightly into the hallway. Once the door was shut behind him and the one that led to the kitchen was too, Sherlock caressed John's cheek. "Are you okay?"

John held his hands and nodded. "I just had a bad dream, that's all," he explained.

Sherlock rubbed a thumb over his cheek and kissed him. John kissed him back, needing the contact. John couldn't help but let his mind work as he had Sherlock so close. None of his past girlfriends could ever comfort him with just a kiss; none of them had tried so hard to show that they loved him. There was no one he could think of that was like Sherlock. No one as brilliant or mad, as the man in front of him. He pulled away and took in a deep breath. "I love you Sherlock," he told him. It was the only solution to all the facts, as Sherlock would say.

The smile on Sherlock's face made him want to cry. "Really?" he asked as he leaned his forehead against John's.

"Yes, really," John told him. "I love you."

Sherlock kissed him again. "I love you too," he laughed. He grabbed John's hand and tugged him back into the living room. "Lestrade, you're disturbing our flat," he looked down at the DI. "You're looking for something that isn't here. Even the evidence you claim I stole. Now please, if you could, leave."

John squeezed his hand. He bit back a smile as Lestrade glanced at their hands. "I'll be back in the morning," he told Sherlock. "Alright guys, clear out. We're done here." John watched everyone file out of the flat. When Lestrade was the last officer still there, he turned to them with a smile. "Remember, I'm showing up tomorrow to deal with you Sherlock, we have missing evidence and you're our main suspect," he sounded more amused than anything else. He gave them a short wave before leaving.

John peered up at Sherlock with a small sad smile. "I'm sorry for hiding our relationship," he started. "I feel like a fool for doing it, especially now."

"It was very foolish," Sherlock told him. "But, who cares. You're tired, let's go to bed."

John nodded and pulled Sherlock's arm over his shoulder and he leaned into his side. "What do you do all night when I'm asleep anyway?" he asked.

"I just lay there," Sherlock shrugged. He climbed into the bed and pulled John with him. "Sometimes I watch you; sometimes I get bored and go work on an experiment returning before you wake up. If I have a case I bring the file in here with me and read over the details."

John chuckled and rested his head on Sherlock's chest. "Of course you do," he said.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around him. "I don't hear you complaining about it," he stated.

"That's because I'm asleep Sherlock," John laughed. He yawned and grasped Sherlock's shirt. "Don't leave me tonight."

"I won't," Sherlock assured him. John nodded and fell asleep in a few short minutes.

X

John was standing off to the side watching Sherlock work. He checked his watch for the time and saw that it was only noon. It felt like he'd been up for days. He saw Anderson walk into the room and groaned. He knew it couldn't end well. He covered his mouth with his hand as he tried to send Sherlock a warning with his mind.

Sherlock snapped off his gloves and stood up. He turned around only to come face to face with Anderson. "Hello Anderson," he said with a small smile. He tried to move around him to get to Lestrade so he could tell him what he had for the case but the other man stopped him. The smile dropped from Sherlock's face and he tilted his head to the side. "John, can you go get Lestrade for me, I need to show him something."

John stared at the two for a moment before nodding. He knew Sherlock was just sending him out of the room. The only thing he could do was hope no one got hurt while they were alone. He waited at the door silently listening in on their conversation.

Sherlock straightened his jacket. "Is there something you want to say Anderson?" he asked.

Anderson shrugged his shoulders. "I heard you and John got together," he said. "I'm assuming you're not a virgin anymore."

Sherlock laughed. He couldn't believe how many people just assumed things. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced out the window. "Just because we're together you think John and I are having sexual intercourse?" he asked.

"What? You're not? Trouble in paradise?" Anderson smirked.

Sherlock frowned and looked down at him. "Why do you care? This isn't your relationship; you don't like us, there's nothing involving you in this. Unless you're just poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction. If you are, I wouldn't go down this route."

Anderson smirked and stepped closer to Sherlock. "So are you?" he asked.

"John and I do not have sex with each other."

The smile grew bigger on Anderson's face. "Why? Does he not want to touch you?" he asked. "Does your body disgust him? It disgusts me. I'm surprised he's even dating you."

John was in the room quickly. Anderson didn't have time to react as he was pulled backwards by the doctor. "What was that?" he asked. "I think it's clear that whatever is going on our relationship is not your business." He wanted to hit the man; he didn't understand anything about their relationship. It's been hard enough just getting where they were. "Leave," he ordered.

"It's not your crime scene," Anderson growled.

John lifted his hand up getting ready to hit him but Sherlock grabbed it and Lestrade stepped in. "No, but it's mine," he said. "Anderson, go take a break outside."

Anderson tore himself from John's grip. John was happy to see him leave and turned to Sherlock. "Ignore him," he mumbled.

Sherlock let go of John's hand and nodded. He looked at Lestrade and started telling him the clues that he gathered. "Call me when you caught the guy, I want to talk with him," he said after his long speech. He stalked out of the room quickly.

John cursed and followed after him. Anderson had to go ruin everything. He caught up with Sherlock as he waved down for a taxi. "Hey, are you alright?" he asked.

"Perfectly fine John," Sherlock said not looking at him.

John grabbed his hand, winced when Sherlock flinched. "Anderson's an idiot," he told him. He looked up and couldn't see any change in Sherlock's face; he was still staring ahead with no smile. "You know very well that I want this."

"I forced it upon you," Sherlock said as the cab pulled up. He pulled his hand out of John's and climbed in.

"That's only because it's in your nature," John said. "221 B Baker Street. It's what you do, you can't control it."

Sherlock shook his head. "Billions of people in the world and I have to love you," he murmured.

John slid across the seat and put his hand on Sherlock's leg. "Sherlock," he said softly, "I love you too, remember?"

Sherlock growled and pinched the bridge of his nose. He stayed silent the rest of the way home.

X

John paced the room in front of Sherlock as he sat on the sofa. "Sherlock, will you just say something?" he asked frustrated.

Sherlock looked up at him with a vacant stare. "Are you sure you love me?" he asked.

John groaned and pulled at his hair. "Months of courting me, now you have me and you can't believe me when I say it," he almost laughed. "Of course I love you."

"Prove it," Sherlock told him.

John frowned. "How?"

Sherlock chewed his lip. "Come here," he said motioning for John to come closer. John happily did so; he sat on the edge of the coffee table with a small smile on his face. Sherlock lifted his hands and ran his thumb over John's cheek. "Tell me you love me."

John turned his head slightly and kissed his hand. "I love you," he whispered.

"Again."

"I love you," John repeated.

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed him softly. He tugged John closer as he pulled away. John moved from the coffee table and cautiously sat on his lap. He placed his hands on Sherlock's face and kissed him again. "You can't let anyone tell you any different," he whispered against the man's lips. "Please, I just found out myself, I don't want you to be angry, I don't want you to give up."

"I can't give up," Sherlock laughed. "You should know that. It's Shadow 101. Every human with a Shadow latches onto someone else, human or Shadow, and that love will last until their last days together. It's literally until death do us part."

"You could live forever if you wanted to," John told him. "Your Shadow will keep you alive."

Sherlock shook his head and wound his arms around John. "No, when you die I'll be right after you," he told him. "We can't live without you John."

John stared at him; amazed at the last sentence. His lips twitched as he frowned. It must have been hard for the both of them when John tried to stop them. "And I can't live without you."

X

John was lying on the couch, reading a book. His eyes were drawn away from the words when he saw Sherlock coming up the stairs. "Where were you all day?" he asked.

Sherlock didn't answer as he shrugged off his jacket. "I want to show you something," he said as he started unbuttoning his shirt. John sat up, expecting to see a wound but instead there was a hand print on Sherlock's chest over his heart. "Do you like it?"

John licked his lips as he peered at the hand. "It's a tattoo," he stated as he put down his book. "Why do you have a tattoo?"

Sherlock frowned and started buttoning up his shirt. "I don't know," he turned around. "I just wanted to get one."

John pushed himself off the couch and turned him around. He started unbuttoning his shirt again. "Let me get a proper look at it," he told him. He knew Sherlock only meant well and couldn't be mad at him for something as simple as a tattoo. He pulled back the shirt and stared at the dark handprint. He narrowed his eyes and looked up at him. "This is mine." He traced the small lines slowly. "Is that why I woke up with ink on my hand?" he asked, swatting at Sherlock. "I would have loved to know that."

"I wanted to surprise you," Sherlock told him. "I got it finished today."

John smiled. "I like it," he told him with a laugh. He spread his fingers over the hand on Sherlock's chest, matching perfectly with it. "I love it."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Really, you like it and love it?" he asked.

John glanced up at him. "I love it, no, I really do." He moved his hand and kissed it. "It's great, and it's in a spot where no one else will see it."

"Selfish," Sherlock chuckled.

John hit him lightly before going back to the couch. Sherlock moved towards the couch and laid down with his head on John's lap. "Do you want attention now?" he asked peering down at him.

"I wouldn't mind it," Sherlock mumbled.

The smirk on his face made John sigh. He motioned Sherlock closer before kissing him lovingly. He pulled away and moved out from underneath Sherlock and laid down next to him. He continued to kiss him. Sherlock pushed him over onto his back and laid on top of John. He started kissing down his jaw line onto his neck. John hummed as his eyes slipped shut.

Sherlock pulled away slightly. "You still don't want to have sex right?" he asked.

John frowned at him. "Right, why? You don't want to do you?" he asked, his eyes going a bit wide.

"No, no, I just wanted to make sure, you're mind changed about loving me, maybe it changed about that too," Sherlock said.

John shook his head. "I'm perfectly happy with just this," he told him as he pulled him down and kissed him.

"Good," Sherlock growled and kissed him harder.

X

There had been a string of murders committed by Shadows. John had been helping with Sherlock as he tried to stop them from happening. They knew it was nearly impossible to figure out who killed them but they did know it was planned. Every one of the murders was planned and done in just about the same way. One thing that was clear was that they were working with a serial killer.

Sherlock was stumped, and he could only imagine how the others must have felt. He knew John was getting frustrated; he lost his job because he was working on the case, and they were getting nowhere. He glanced at the doctor where he was asleep on the floor, the file he was reading underneath his head. He sighed and pushed himself away from his microscope, and knelt next to John. He shook his shoulder gently, trying to wake him.

John jumped awake, his hand flying to where his gun should be in the waistband of his jeans. His eyes focused on Sherlock, his breathing slowing as he relaxed. "What?" he asked as he ran a hand through his hair. "Did something happen?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No, your shoulder will be sore in the morning if you sleep on the floor," he explained. "Go to bed, you need your sleep." He shut his eyes when he started feeling a buzzing in his chest.

John scanned his face; he could see sweat shinning. It wasn't hot in the flat at all, quite the opposite; the first week living together Sherlock requested the windows stay open as much as possible. "When was the last time you changed?" he asked as he sat up more and grabbed his wrist to check his pulse.

"John, go to the bedroom now," Sherlock told him. He stood up, taking John with him. He pushed him towards the bedroom. "Lock the door and don't come out."

John nodded and stepped towards the bedroom. He paused and looked back at Sherlock. He frowned as a pained look overcame his features; he wished he could stop it, but knew it had to happen. He went to the bedroom and locked the door as he was told. He leaned against the door and listened for any sound of Sherlock's transformation.

There was a crash and John flinched. He pulled his knees up to his chest as he heard Sherlock yell out in pain. They were lucky Mrs. Hudson was out for the night, it would have been bad if she came up. There was another crash from the living room. He clamped his hands over his ears trying to block out the noise.

He was pushed forward as something hit the door. He pushed back against it. "Leave Sherlock," he growled. "Please!" The door was hit again as Sherlock slammed himself against it. John moved away from it and crawled across the floor. "Go!"

X

For an hour John was curled up in a ball in the corner. He had his hands over his ears still. The moment the noise stopped through, John's heart started pounding. It made him afraid; did Sherlock leave; has he changed back to his human form? He took in a deep breath and crawled over to the door. He pressed his ear up against it and listened for any noise.

A low groan was let out and John knew right away that Sherlock was back. He unlocked the door, and pulled it open the door; it practically fell off the hinges. He winced as he stepped on some glass, hearing it crunch under his shoes. "Sherlock," he called out, coming around the corner.

Sherlock was lying on the floor, his knees drawn to his chest. His breathing was ragged, and a piece of glass was sticking out of his leg. John ran over to him, falling to his knees. "Sherlock," he breathed out. He looked at the wound, trying to figure out how to successfully remove the shard. "Hey, be careful, don't move. I have to take this out."

Sherlock nodded his head. "Hungry," he moaned.

"I know, I know, but I can't do anything for you with this in your leg," he told him. He wrapped something around his hands and grabbed the piece of glass. He pulled it out slowly, listening to the small pained noises coming from him. "There, all done," he sighed and threw the glass to the side. He ran to the bathroom and grabbed some bandages and started to wrap his leg. He lifted him off the floor and moved him to the destroyed couch. "Just lay here and I'll get you food."

John stumbled into the kitchen and everything in the fridge. He dumped it in front of Sherlock and went back to get more food. He came back setting it down in front of him before sitting down next to him. He rubbed his back soothingly.

Sherlock finished eating and leaned his head against John's shoulder. "Did I hurt you?" he muttered sleepily.

John shook his head. "Let's go to bed," he said slipping his arms under Sherlock's leg and lifting him off the couch. He carried him to the bed, setting him down gently. He kissed his cheek before crawling in next to him.

"Get any news you can on the cases while I'm asleep," Sherlock told him as he rolled over so he was lying on John. "I can't miss anything."

"I will Sherlock," John told him. "Go to sleep, you'll feel better in a few days."

X

John had spent four days gathering up evidence for Sherlock like was told to. Every night he would check up on him, seeing if he was awake, or healing any better, and would leave the files and his notes by the bed just in case he did wake up.

He was at the Yard, phone close by as he read over the file Lestrade gave him. John sighed and rubbed his eyes. He picked up his pencil going to circle something he thought was important before dropping it again. A cup of coffee slipped into his view and he looked up to see Lestrade standing beside him. "Looks like you need a bigger one but this is the only size cups we have," the DI laughed.

John smiled up at him before taking a large gulp of the coffee. "Thanks," he coughed. "This is tiring."

"I know, I don't know how Sherlock can do this for days on end," Lestrade said sitting next to him.

John nodded, knowing full well how Sherlock could do it. "I don't understand either," he lied. "Sherlock really wishes he could be here but he's worn out form days of work. I can barely get him to wake up."

Greg laughed again. "You're a good man, staying up late just to do his work," he said patting his back. "Why don't you go home?"

"Sherlock will kill me if I don't look over these for him," John told him. "If I stay here I have a less likely chance of falling asleep."

"Yeah but if you keep working like this you'll end up like Sherlock."

John sighed, imagining himself sleeping for four days. "I would be so rested," he said. "Listen, I'll be fine. I'm going home soon."

Lestrade nodded. "I'll stay until you leave and take you home. You're vulnerable for attack if you're tired like this," he told him.

"Thanks Greg," John yawned. "I'm almost done."

"How do you do it?" Lestrade asked. "How do you deal with Sherlock and still want to do this for him?"

John shrugged his shoulders. "I understand Sherlock, a lot more than you guys here do," he told him. "If you knew him like I do you would understand why I do what I do."

"I don't think I want to know him like you do," Lestrade told him. "Come on, finish up, the wife wants to have a fight when we get home."

John cringed. "What is she mad about now?" he asked.

"This case, me staying out late every night," Lestrade sighed. He rubbed his face tiredly. "It's fine though; she'll get over it like she always does."

"And if she doesn't?" he asked.

"Do you have room on your couch?" Lestrade laughed.

John pursed his lips for a moment. "Well, the couch is a bit of a wreck," he told him. "You could always use my old bed though, if it really becomes a problem. Of course Sherlock would have to approve."

Lestrade shook his head. "No, I couldn't do that to you two," he told him.

John nodded and shut the folder. "I'll just take this home. I'm sure Sherlock will be fine tomorrow; he can take a look at it himself." He stood up, swaying on his feet. Hopefully he would be able to just fall asleep when he got home. "I can't thank you enough Greg."

Greg held up him up and led him to the door. "You can barely walk," he told him. "People would think you were drunk." He laughed and John joined in with him. Lestrade opened the passenger door for him and let him slip in. He ran around and climbed into the car, starting it up.

John leaned his head against the window and watched the buildings go by as rain covered his view. "Greg do you know what Shadows are?" he asked.

Lestrade looked over at him with a weird look. "Yeah, the things that light casts on the ground," he told him. "Or those silly stories my folks talked about?"

John shut his eyes and laughed. "Never mind," he said. He glanced over at Lestrade. "So you never believed those stories?"

"No, I'm not a nut job," Lestrade pointed out. "Maybe I did when I was a kid but I don't even talk about it with my kids."

John hummed as he nodded. "I read a book on them a few days ago," he told him. "Despite all my work, I just wanted to see what people thought."

Greg cleared his throat and looked over at him. "Do you believe in those stories?" he asked.

John shrugged; he didn't want Lestrade to think he was a 'nut job'. "I don't know. I have a few friends that believe they're real." Greg nodded and continued to drive in silence. John smiled and shut his eyes again.

The car came to a slow stop in front of the flat. "Thanks again," John told him. "You'll probably see Sherlock tomorrow."

"Alright," Greg laughed. "Sleep well John."

John nodded and waved at him as he stumbled into the flat. He moved quietly up the stairs and pulled off his jacket. He slipped out of his shoes leaving them by the door and stripped himself of his clothes as he continued onto the room. He dropped the file in the growing pile before slipping under the covers, grabbing Sherlock by the waist.

He took in a deep breath, burying his head into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock mumbled incoherently and wrapped his arms around John. The doctor smiled and kissed his chest before going to sleep.

X

John woke up sometime late afternoon the next day to Sherlock talking on the phone. He rolled onto his back and looked up at him. "John, don't move," Sherlock hissed.

John blinked at him a few times and looked that the bed was covered in papers. "Oh god," he groaned. He looked at the files he spent days going over strewn across him. "Can I get out of bed?"

"No, just go back to sleep, you don't move much then," Sherlock told him.

"If you just let me slip out of bed you'll have a whole side to yourself," John pointed out.

Sherlock looked at him. "Hold on Lestrade," he said into the phone. He held it to his chest before leaning over and kissing him. "You're tired still, just go to sleep. I'll wake you if I need you."

John stared at him blankly. "You're absolutely ridiculous," he told him. He shut his eyes again. "I'm going back to sleep."

Sherlock smiled down at him watching him fall asleep again before Lestrade's voice on the phone brought him back. "Lestrade, you're an idiot. How could this yellow paper have any significance to this case at all?" he asked. "I'm glad John brought it to my attention. You would have been on the wrong trail completely."

X

Sherlock had moved to the counter in the kitchen, eventually allowing John to catch up on his sleep in peace. He had received samples of some Shadow blood from the crime scenes; though the police called it mysterious clear goop. Sherlock did all he could to hold himself back from insulting everyone at the Yard. He was examining the samples underneath his microscope, trying to find a difference between them.

In all the years that Shadows were known and studied by a few people no one has been able tell a Shadow from one or another. He was staring at the blood, jotting down whatever he saw. He marked it with a number and pushed it aside. He slipped another one under his scope and examined it.

He angrily pushed himself back and almost swiped everything off his work space. He wasn't seeing anything. To him every Shadow was the same. There was no difference. He wiped his face with his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. He relaxed when he felt John's hands on his shoulder massaging them. "Can you take a look at these?" he asked.

John leaned over his shoulder and looked at the slides. "What are we looking for?" he asked before moving in front of Sherlock and looking into the microscope.

"I'm trying to differentiate the Shadows blood to see if that could give us a hint at who's doing this," Sherlock explained.

John nodded and started to focus on the slides. He went through all of them slowly, occasionally backing up and shaking his head. He spent twenty minutes before turning around and shaking his head. "I can't find any difference," he told him. He tapped the counter as he stared at Sherlock. "Maybe there's only one Shadow at these scenes."

Sherlock's eyes went wide and he looked up at John. "Say that again," he said slowly.

John grinned and knew he helped spark an idea. "Maybe there is only one Shadow at these scenes," he repeated.

Sherlock grabbed John's head and kissed him before standing up. "Brilliant," he sighed. "Why didn't I think of that?" He went over to the file and started looking through them. "Now we know its two people committing these crimes."

John cocked his head to the side and followed him. "How do we know that?" he asked.

"Well, we know that two people were tied up to a chair," Sherlock started, "so there's one person that had to tie the other person up. One of those people tied up is a Shadow; we know that because only one body is found at the scene. Now, we also know that the Shadow is being force to change because of how frequent the murders are. So, someone has to tie him up, and then force the change on him. The second person."

John opened his mouth before shutting it quickly. He shook his head with a smile. "Brilliant," he let out. "Absolutely brilliant."

**Tell me what you thought. I love when I get reviews. They're always fun. So, thank you for reading. I hope the next one will be the last one. BYE!**


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